


Terrible and Demonic

by Genesister (papirini)



Series: Bangs and Thangs [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Animal Transformation, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mind Control, Slice of Life, Vampire Hunters, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampires, Werebabies, Werewolf Shiro (Voltron), Werewolves, guess which one used to be a vampire hunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papirini/pseuds/Genesister
Summary: The crew of the showUncanny Camerabite off more than they can chew when they trespass on the property of a very grumpy-and very vampiric-homeowner.Written for the Sheith Prompt Party 2020. Now with IMAGES!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Bangs and Thangs [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1106265
Comments: 22
Kudos: 117
Collections: Sheith Prompt Party 2020





	Terrible and Demonic

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt:
> 
>  **Prompt:** slice of life vampire au, which means vampire husbands sheith or vampire x vampire hunter  
>  **Bonus Points:** vampire sheith and their fancy masquerade parties, or it could be a What We Do In The Shadows styled vampire husbands taking you on a tour of their mansion, could be hot hot just married husbands, or long time married sheith acting very lovey dovey 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, anonymous requester. :)
> 
> A special thanks to [Icala](https://twitter.com/ana_pla_) for her art!

The executive producers of the television show Uncanny Camera could not believe their eyes as they watched the workprint of their latest intended episode-the exploration of the reputedly haunted and oft-requested Rood Manor-on their screens. As the seconds ticked by on their watches and the film continued, their mouths slowly dropped until the skin beneath their chin reached their lower necks.

To say they were flabbergasted with what they were watching would be an understatement.

“What in the world…”

For decades, the reality show had gone on to document locations throughout the world that were locally known, or at least rumored, to be haunted by the supernatural. The goal of the show had always been the same-a group of intrepid ghost hunters and parapsychologists, known by their army of viewers as the Uncanny Crew, spent a few nights in such abnormal abodes, blasted buildings and corrupted constructions, using various methods and technology to either prove or disprove the anecdotal evidence given at the beginning of each episode for each haunted area they visited. The more frightening and more convincingly creepy the place filmed, the better; it was even more effective when strange things actually happened during the Crew’s time in any given place.

Whether they were successful or not, the crew-currently led by the ever-skeptical scientist Dr. Samuel Holt-had never left an assignment incomplete. Nor had Uncanny Camera, in all its years of being on the air, ever left an episode unreleased. Yet as the producers looked back over what their dazed, confused, and disheveled crew had handed in that morning, they couldn’t believe their eyes.

“I don’t believe this…!”

There was no way they could air this.

Not like _this_.

* * *

There was a little island on the St. Lawrence River, one that was cut through by the maritime border of Canada and the United States, that was known officially as Lapurdi Island. To any outsider driving on the Ogdensburg-Prescott, it was little more than two acres of untamed micro-wilderness filled with overgrown groves of maples and poison ivy, which hung over the small but sheer rock cliffs. It was hardly an impressive sight to behold, not in comparison to other places in the archipelago; the natural beauty of Wellesley and Hill Islands, the Boldt attractions of Heart Island, or the size of the Frontenac Islands-even Just Enough Island was seemingly a better point of interest than Lapurdi.

To the locals on the river, however, there was a reason the place was so overgrown and untouched-and it had a less-savory colloquial name because of it. It was called Blood Owl Island, from a name the easternmost Haudenosaunee had given it during early colonial times. Many claimed it held an abandoned burial ground from the Beaver Wars, where dozens of Haudenosaunee and Wyandot bodies and bones were haphazardly tossed into graves by the French. Others claimed some First Nation denizens believed the ground had been home to a family of malevolent cannibals whose icy hearts were burned, the remains buried deep in the rock; disturbing the area would rouse them from their forced slumber. All believed the island had a curse on it regardless.

But, to the surprise of many, a few intrepid kayakers had, several decades before, stumbled on what looked to be an abandoned house, overgrown with vines and trees and fenced off with rusted barbed wire. More than that, it was in very good condition, despite the fact no one even knew the place existed. Then it turned out that the house-and all of Blood Owl Island, for that matter-was owned by a holding company dating back centuries, whose owners were all anonymous. It was private property the entire time, and no one was legally allowed to set foot on the island, or to visit what was called Rood Manor in the pages of deeds, without explicit permission from these shadowy caretakers.

Naturally, people had to try and learn more about the truth of this abandoned house, namely by trespassing on the mysterious property. Many tried to take the dare of surviving the night; just as naturally, many failed. More than that, those who had tried had stranger stories to tell about their experiences. Flashes of light, sightings of animals with glowing eyes, strange sounds emanating from the house, the sensation of being watched even when you were all alone. Sometimes, there was a small boat, with a strange, cloaked figure rafting through the waters, a massive beast at its side as it rowed, before it suddenly vanished into thin air. Other times, there was the angry shriek and bloodied teeth of an unknown beast filling the air, one that sounded like a woman’s screams.

They were all the telltale signs of a haunting-one so potent that few thrill-seekers managed to survive to midnight, much less overnight. And the lure of such a strong haunting was too much for Sam Holt’s crew-and the producers of Uncanny Camera-to resist. Despite his protests and pointing out that going to Blood Owl Island unannounced could get them all arrested, the producers would hear nothing of it. For their season finale, Uncanny Camera would explore Blood Owl Island and Rood Manor, spend a whole weekend there, and show once and for all whether there really was a curse.

It didn’t go _quite_ as planned, though.

The moment they walked onto the island and bypassed the barbed wire fence that denoted the island’s borders, the feeling they were being watched immediately began. Footsteps in the grass followed them, the trees and vines rustled around their heads even though no wind or animals were causing it, and the snapping of twigs on the ground echoed through the air like gunshots. No matter how hard they looked, though, the camera crew could find nothing and no one in the vicinity around them. It was perfect filming fodder, though the longer they stayed, the more tempted Sam was to just cancel the whole endeavor and get back to the mainland. Even the more adventurous members of the bunch began to voice concerns that _maybe_ they should turn back and leave before things went downhill for them. Much as Sam wanted to, in the end, the majority of the crew voted to at least stay until midnight-whatever footage they received then would have to suffice.

It was a bad idea they would all come to regret-everything changed for the worse once they entered (or rather, broke the lock off the main door to enter) Rood Manor itself. The crew found themselves inside a fully furnished and well-kept entrance way, with a plush red carpet and velveted wallpaper. Through an arched doorway to their left, a massive living room lay; to the right was a set of wooden stairs with framed pictures lined at an angle and rising upwards. There were no cobwebs, no specks of dust to be found, and the pungent smell of dimly-lit rose candles filled the air.

Someone _lived_ here, the crew realized. But that was all they realized before they all suddenly blacked out at the sight of two bright, blood-red eyes floating in the air, staring back at them with barely constrained rage.

Now they stood in a lavish, blood-red parlor room with their cameras set up and lights dimmed, pupils blown and minds completely gone. They stared at a large, plush throne leafed with gold, upon which the oddly small, furry, and shadowy creature landed with a small plop. It was then that the little beast transformed right before their eyes into a tall, svelte man with pale skin and black hair which fell over glowing purple eyes. A long, thin scar seared across his right cheek and down to his neck; immediately he brought a cloaked arm up to cover his face, before bringing his other arm to the record player sitting on the side table next to the chair.

“You.” The figure beckoned to Sam, then the cameraman, as the organ strains of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor began to fill the air. “Start filming.”

With a slow, jerky movement of his fingers, Sam’s camera man pressed the record button. Once he saw that the red light was blinking, the figure threw their cape up between their fingers with a dramatic flourish, revealing the tuxedo beneath. His mouth opened with a fanged hiss as he snarled at the camera lens.

“ **FOOLISH MORTALS!** ” His face distorted as he began to shout at the camera, other hand raised with cape in tow, cape fluttering from the action. “You have made your last mistake, for you have trespassed on the domicile of a monster! A terror! The worst beast you will ever encounter!”

Another hiss.

“For I am…a vampire! They call me…Thunderstorm Darkness the Terrible and Demonic, uh, and Very Much Dangerous and Evil and Cruel and Very, _Very_ Hungry!” Long, curved claws came out from beneath his fingers, including the one on his right hand which held on it a gold ring, as his ears simultaneously began pointed and sharp. “I am over 500 years old, and I can drink the blood of all living beings…I can transform into fog and fire and beast…”

His voice became louder and more agitated as he continued, pointing angrily at the camera.

“…and I am _sick_ and _tired_ of you stupid humans trampling over _my goddamn property_!!” His finger trembled as Thunderstorm Darkness continued pointing, shouting and snarling. “And I have had it! I am emerging from the shadows of my dark existence to send a message to the world! From here on out, I will destroy _anyone_ who dares to invade my domicile! I will drain every drop of blood from you! I will transform into fog and crash your boats, then turn into piranhas and gnaw on your fingers! I will tie you up and feed you to the bloodthirsty wolves that totally live with me, and that’s after I drain every drop of your blood!! Because I’m a sadistic killer!! **_THUNDERSTORM DARKNESS_**!!”

He threw his arms out with such force that he caused the record to scratch and skip, having knocked one of his hands into it in his fury. The Uncanny Camera crew watched him, unblinking, as he spat out a swear under his breath as he realized the song was repeating.

“ _Quiz_ nak, could...one of you fix that?” Matt-the mic man, and Sam’s son-waddled over and moved the needle back into a groove, staring at the record player for several seconds before Thunderstorm Darkness shooed him back behind the camera. “Ok, ok, where was I…oh, right, I’m a sadistic killer. I mean...I am a _sadistic killer_ , and I am unkillable and vicious and I _bite_!! I’ll do all that I just said that I would do to any who dare to cross me, and…and then I will-”

“ _Keeeith_ , I’m _hoooome_!”

The vampire’s tirade abruptly halted, and he instantly froze, pale face going white as a sheet and the glow of his eyes flickering away, as he turned towards the doorway of the parlor. Likewise, the camera crew also slowly turned to look at what their temporary master was reacting to, their dead eyes following in braindead unison.

“Guess who managed to get a dozen fresh jessamine and the last package of Chuckles at checkout for his favorite vampire, while he and Kosmo were getting groceries at Price Chopperrrr~!”

A tall, muscular man whose figure practically filled the doorway was standing there, his hair as white as snow and smile as bright as a light bulb. He wore a black hoodie and tight pants, with a pair of dark flip flops flapping beneath his feet. A pair of plastic grocery bags were crooked in one arm, while a decidedly futuristic and metallic prosthetic arm was happily shaking a small box of sugary gumdrops and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Squeezing next to his shoulder was the _very_ large head of a _very_ large and furry wolf, its neon yellow eyes glowing in the dim light. A large cyan tongue rolled out of his mouth in excitement, resulting in a deluge of drool falling into a puddle beneath the handsome newcomer’s feet.

“I also managed to get that prune and honey puree that the little monster likes. Oh, and that _really_ delicious kosher kielbasa brand that we had at Allu-” The handsome man stopped when he spotted the dull-eyed group on the couch. “Uh, Keith? Who _are_ these people and why are you wearing your wedding tuxedo with a cape?”

“ _GHHK_ -!” It was then that Thunderstorm Darkness the Terrible and Demonic and Very Much Dangerous and Evil and Cruel and Very, _Very_ Hungry leaped up, and quick as a viper first knocked the record needle back into its resting notch, then leaped in front of the camera, hands thrown out with cape hovering in front of the filming equipment. It mostly covered the lens’ view of the newcomer, though Sam at least could see the newcomer’s head. “ _Shiro_?! What are _you_ doing here!?”

“…I… _live_ here, Keith. With _you_. Also Kosmo, and our, uh…” Confusion began to bleed into the now-mostly-unseen figure’s voice. “I didn’t know you were planning on having guests over-”

“Not guests! These are _not guests_! Shiro—” The vampire’s voice went up an octave as he shook his claws with an intimidating flap of his fingers. “I-I mean…I don’t know this Keith you speak of. I’m Thunderstorm Darkness, bane of the night and terror of the dark, you…mysterious and handsome and…and sexy person who I’m…totally going to kill on camera in a very violent fashion befitting a feral and unpredictable monster such as I-”

The response from the other is an audible sigh.

“Keith…did you thrall these people?”

The vampire’s back deflated visibly at the accusation.

“…Shiro…”

“ _Keith_.”

The sound of creaking wood as the figure stepped forward. A few more thuds later, and the massive wolf, the top of it’s fur glowing cyan, was also standing by one of the plush chairs in the lounge, wag smacking against it to the point of moving the seat inch by inch. A small pool of saliva began to form near its feet as Sam watched the white-haired figure gently take the terrible and evil hell spawn by the shoulder with his flesh hand.

“Hey now, we’ve _talked_ about this. You shouldn’t be using your thrall on people if you need fresh blood, you know there are safer means to get fed without drawing attention-”

“I-I wasn’t going to drain them, though! I swear!” The cape dropped from the vampire’s hands as he sputtered, giving the camera crew a closer look at a part of the larger man’s shapely and muscular silhouette. “They were trespassing. _Again_. It’s the third time this month someone’s broken in during the _day_!”

“Keith...”

“And they have _cameras_.” The disgust in the tone that spilled out of Thunderstorm Darkness the Terrible and Demonic, etc., became mixed with anger. “They were going to _record_ me and our _family_ without even asking us if it was ok! It’s not fair, people keep wanting to barge in like they own the place ever since that stupid newspaper article about our house being here!”

At this, the white-haired companion’s eyebrows narrowed. The expression on his face was indecipherable, and of course no one on the crew in their addled state were remotely capable of figuring out the emotions that pooled in his grey eyes as he looked over at them, then back at the vampire.

“I just wanted to use these guys and their cameras to keep people away from _our house_ for once!”

“Keith…”

“Please don’t be angry with me, Shiro…! I swear, I…I wasn’t going to hurt anyone…”

The terrifying and monstrous fiend’s head can down, his clawed hands clenching into sharp fists. In response, the larger man immediately acted, taking the other shoulder with his prosthetic and tilting the vampire’s chin up with his flesh hand. A gold ring dimly gleamed on one of the metal fingers of his robotic arm; no one of the Uncanny Camera group had enough freedom of thought to comprehend what that would mean.

“Keith…Keith-hey. Sweetie, it’s ok, I believe you.” The white-haired man’s fingers then moved towards the upper part of the vampire’s face; the fingers emerged back into view with suspiciously wet and bloody tips. “We’ll figure this out. I promised you I’d take care of you for the rest of my life, and that includes helping with trespassers. But you have to promise me that we’ll work _together_ on that, ok? No taking things into our own hands, remember?”

“Of course.” Thunderstorm Darkness’s voice also sounded unusually shaky for a heartless abomination, as his hand traced over a large scar that lay over the other’s nose. “But I can’t let our family be hurt after all we went through to become one. Shiro—I can’t let _you_ be hurt. Not again.”

“…You won’t. I promise.”

The smile that spread on the taller man’s face was full of warmth and kindness as he leaned in to bury his head into Thunderstorm Darkness’s neck. On its chair, the large glowing wolf’s head bolted up, and its nostrils let out a long sniff.

“These guys are nowhere near the level of threat that something like rogue DARC agents are, that’s for sure.” Slowly, the white-haired man’s head came back up, and his eyes scanned over the camera crew. “Actually…I think I know who these guys are.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” The muscular man blinked before frowning. “I think I’ve seen them advertised on Discovery, especially the older man there-”

Suddenly, the wolf let out a strange, chirping bark. Immediately after, the muscular man’s head popped towards the doorway of the lounge. The camera crew heard nothing, but judging by the way the vampire’s ears twitched, it was clear there was something happening elsewhere in the mansion.

“Looks like our baby bat’s awake.” The man gently stroked Thunderstorm Darkness’s hair. “You want to do the honors of feeding the most amazing and adorable little monster in the galaxy?”

“I…” The vampire looked towards the doorway, then back to the muscular man; the camera crew did likewise. “What about these guys?”

“Kosmo and I will handle them. Been awhile since I’ve done an old Hunter-style cover up, after all.” Slowly, Thunderstorm Darkness and the man named Shiro separated, with the latter giving the former a beautiful, reassuring smile. “Hey, don’t worry, Keith, we’ve got this. You go handle Squeaky upstairs.”

“Yeah…yeah, I can do that.”

“And maybe change into something a _little_ less stereotypically vampiric before you feed her?” There’s a teasing undertone in Shiro’s voice as he hands over one of the bags to his undead partner. “From experience, supernatural baby vomit isn’t easy to get out of silk clothing, not even with bleach.”

“ _Ha_ ha.” That actually got a snort. “All right, all right, just…don’t make too much noise with whatever you’re planning.”

With one last look and a flash of bright red in his eyes, the vampire slowly nodded, before flourishing his cape one more time, wrapping it around himself and the bag of groceries. One second later, there was a puff of smoke, and a black bat was rapidly flying out of the room and into other, unknown parts of the house.

“…Don’t worry, Keith, I won’t.”

The words were murmured as Shiro took off his hoodie, then his shirt, then his pants. Watching him strip, the wolf immediately hopped off the chair and let out a quizzical bark.

“Nah, modesty’s overrated. Besides, they won’t remember any of this once the thrall wears off, Kosmo.” The smile on the man’s face suddenly became more feral, his eyes glowing silver in the faint light of the lounge as he kicked his flipflops off. “But while they’re like this…”

Off came his underwear. He was covered in scars from head to toe, and now, his fingernails seemed longer and sharper than they had been mere moments ago.

“…let’s give them a reason to never want to come back here, shall we?”

No sooner had he detached his metal prosthetic, that thick white hair began sprouting all over his skin, his suddenly triangular ears began to lift up towards the top of his head, and his mouth opened wide to reveal sharp, animal fangs-

* * *

“I don’t believe this…!” The head executive producer brought a hand to his temple. “You were there on Blood Owl Island that entire time, and _this_ is all that you got!?”

Sam’s mouth opened, then closed, as he tried to explain. He couldn’t, though. Everything that had happened on Blood Owl Island had been a blur. He recalled getting on the island, of course, and then dazedly leaving it with his crew that night. Everything between was little more than mush in his memory. Flashes of red, the sensation of sleeping, and then, a great deal of darkness was all he and anyone else could pull from their brains regarding the experience.

Not that there was much of an experience to have, if their recordings were any indication. Almost all of their scarce video was of a large, three-legged Siberian husky hobbling around. It was a rather active beast once it pegged the Uncanny Camera group as its playmates-running around with Matt, sniffing the crew’s butts and otherwise slobbering and pooping everywhere in the backyard of the supposedly haunted house. An occasional sighting of a large black dog of unknown species streaking past and leaving its own path of slobber before anyone was wiser was also pointed out by the disgruntled editor.

“What the-just…this isn’t even _remotely_ scary! Or what you were supposed to find! You have to go back and do it right…!”

Nor was it remotely professional. There was some giggling coming from the crew as they played around, and Matt even ran around naked at one point near the end of their recording, before being pounced on by the husky. Otherwise, when they were on camera, Sam and everyone else acted like they were high on drugs. Which was possible, Sam mused with a sigh. Matt had admitted that he _had_ brought marijuana with him, since it _was_ legal to carry a small amount in New York without problem, but it was supposed to be for easing anxiety, not for pure recreation. Yet the crew had _somehow_ gotten into his stash-if only they could figure out why or when, since no one could remember anything. Then again, pot was known to potentially cause short-term memory problems…

Not that it mattered at that moment. Sam and his crew could only watch in confused horror as their sponsors and bosses panicked at the footage, just in time for an intern to come in and pop an envelope into the hands of the head executive producer. Immediately he ripped it open, a disbelieving laugh tumbling from his lips as he read it.

“…A court date for a restraining order requested by the owners of Rood Manor and Lapurdi Island. They found out you trespassed on their property, and are also threatening to sue for damage done to the manor.” He looked close to tears, which was exactly how Sam felt. “Oh my god, _we have no season finale_!! We might not even have a _show_ after all of this! Tell me why I shouldn’t fire the lot of you again!?”

In the end, the Uncanny Camera crew wasn’t fired, though they did have to improvise on a season finale by going back to the Winchester Mystery House for an update, and were paid less for the episode as a result. The production company also had to settle with the mysterious owners out of court, for a considerable amount, to keep the embarrassing story of the failed episode’s filming out of the news. The restraining order was of course granted, along with orders against other shows like Uncanny Camera; because of this, no ghost hunting-type franchise could ever film on the purportedly cursed island again, no matter how many more requests for an exploration of Lapurdi Island or Rood Manor came into those shows from then on out.

Nor would anyone really know, much less remember, what-or who-exactly Uncanny Camera truly found on the island during their brief, hazy sojourn. Once in a while, out of nowhere, Sam would recall a strange flash of sharp fangs, or a pair of bright red eyes staring at them, of the faint scent of roses. Yet even when he had such recollections, he could never say for certain it was a flashback or just a figment of his imagination. Other crew members would tell him how they were sure they had dreamed about what they _truly_ did on the island, but how by the time they woke up, they had forgotten what, exactly, they had experienced in their sleep.

Probably just some flashbacks to when everyone was high, Sam reasoned. After all, it wasn’t like they _actually_ found anything worth recording.

**END**

BONUS: I made more than one banner for this story. Enjoy the cute.


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